


The Unknown

by Creme13rulee



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Amnesia, Anxiety, Depression, Drabble, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I do mean things to Yuuri and Viktor but it ends up okay in the end, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Conditions, Memory Loss, Mystery Illness, Tic Disorder, Yuuri has a tic disorder, i guess, plot what plot? just sad.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creme13rulee/pseuds/Creme13rulee
Summary: Viktor imagined Yuuri’s move to Russia to be a big adjustment. But neither of them expected Yuuri to change that much, or that the emergence of Yuuri’s unknown diagnosis could sabotage their careers so soon.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	1. 1

It probably didn’t, but Viktor thought It began with the first nosebleed. Yuuri had been in the kitchen, cutting up an apple for a special dessert when Viktor noticed. A fat drop of crimson red dripping from Yuuri’s right nostril.

“Yuuri-- your nose is bleeding.” Viktor, naturally, panicked. He went for the first aid kit while Yuuri calmly dabbed a paper towel at his nose.

“It must be the air.” Yuuri pulled the kitchen towel from his nose and peered at it. He thought it was over, only there to be a second gush of blood before he even made it to the waste bin.

“What air? Russian air?” Viktor swallowed. The first aid kit was stupid, yes. But at least it had cotton tampons they could use instead of paper towels. 

“It’s dry air.” 

Yuuri could tell Viktor was nervous. He had fretted over the last two weeks-- the transition from coach to competitor-and-coach… their respective competitions happening simultaneously and a rushed international move had left Viktor exhausted. But Yuuri was in Russia now, and they had the weekend to rest and get over some jet-lag before going back to training. 

Viktor wasn’t soothed by the clarification. “I’ll get a humidifier.” He grabbed for his phone, intending to order it next-day shipping on Amazon. 

“It’s fine-- it’s just one nosebleed.”

They ate their dessert together on the cough, Yuuri’s nostrils stuffed with cotton and Makkachin curled on their laps.

Viktor didn’t say anything, but the next morning he watched Yuuri crinkle his nose. The first time it was cute-- everything about Yuuri was cute.

But then he wrinkled his nose at breakfast.

Then at lunch his nose crinkled and his eyes squeezed too tight.

By dinner, Yuuri had done it more than thirty times. Viktor knew the exact number, but he didn’t say a thing. Instead he wrapped Yuuri in a blanket and called for Makkachin to sit with them as he asked Yuuri to let him watch video games.

It was one of the keys to get Yuuri to calm down before the panic bubbled up and spilled out of him. Yuuri curled up in his lap and Viktor watched him expertly kill zombies on the tiny screen of his console.

But it didn’t help.

Yuuri crinkled his nose and hiccuped-- his hands jerked up and sent the console flying out of his hands. It fell with a crack to the floor, but Yuuri didn’t notice. He stared at his hands, his eyes wide-- shocked.

“Did you lose?” Viktor tried to keep his face even. Yuuri would not expect him to be keeping such close attention to his mannerisms. Viktor was forgetful, after all.

“No… I just… it just… happened. I didn’t...want…” Yuuri slid out of Viktor’s lap and gingerly picked up the game console. He jiggled the joystick and pushed some buttons-- his lower lip trembled. The screen was black, the glass cracked from a corner to the center.

“Oh no… solnyshko..” Viktor snaked his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “We can buy a new one.”

“It was five hundred dollars..” Yuuri’s voice trembled, hot tears spilling over his cheeks. “I don’t even know why I…” He swallowed back another hiccup-squeak, his hand trembling. 

Viktor smoothed his hair back and kissed at his neck. “It’s okay. It’s replaceable.”

Yuuri flinched as his hand jerked, smacking the broken console on the top of his head-- whack--whack--whack. His nose scrunched and he hiccup-squeaked. Viktor expected a struggle, but he extracted the console easily from Yuuri’s hand. “Yuuri-- stop! Why would you do that? It’s not your fault-- five hundred is nothing--”

“I’m--trying n-not to… but it… it feels worse.. when I try?” Yuuri whimpered. His arms jerked, smacking at his head hard enough for it to bob back and forth. 

“Try… try to get your mind off of it. I’ll make you some tea.” Viktor smoothed a hand over Yuuri’s back. Maybe giving him space would help.

Viktor brewed them each a cup of tea-- chamomile for Yuuri, and raspberry for himself. He had to work through the box of fruity tea stash. Yuuri only drank black or green, and grimaced when he tried a cup of Christmas Cookie tea during their first night together in St. Petersburg. 

“It’s probably stress. We can get you checked out monday morning. Yubilenny has its own doctor.” Viktor handed Yuuri his mug and scratched at Makkachin’s head. She was resting her chin on Yuuri’s knees, pressing her entire weight against her new dad.

“Thank you.” Yuuri took it, blowing the cloud of steam across the lip of the mug. 

Viktor didn’t have enough time to react-- to stop Yuuri before his arm jerked and he threw the contents of the mug into his face. 

“Fuck!” Viktor yelped-- he nearly tripped as Makkachin scrambled away. Yuuri dropped the mug onto the couch, covering his face with his hands. He whimpered, pliant when Viktor scooped him up into his arms and carried him into the kitchen. Viktor threw on the tap, checking the temperature on the back of his hand before he bent Yuuri over the counter and under the faucet. 

Thank god for his huge, dorky-glasses. Yuuri’s skin was already red, but the burn seemed to be mainly on his cheeks and jawline. Viktor cradled Yuuri’s head in his hand underneath the faucet, hoping the water helped wash away the tears too.


	2. 2

Viktor wet a cool washcloth, draping it on his boyfriends face. He fought to keep his expression even when Yuuri crinkled his nose and hiccuped, his hands shaking as he adjusted the cloth on his face. Viktor could feel Yuuri’s heart beating through his back-- the rhythm too rapid and strong to be reassuring.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?” Viktor stepped back-- the front of Yuuri’s shirt was wet and clinging to him and his shoulders were tense. He was doting too much.

“I d-d-on’t want to do anything,” Yuuri hiccupped again, his hands flying up. He smacked the side of his head lightly as he walked toward the bedroom.

Viktor waited, his heart sinking as he gave Yuuri space. He hated doing it, but Yuuri needed it sometimes. Instead he went to find his bluetooth speaker and his phone, scrolling through his playlists before he found the one he dumped his old skate tracks into. Viktor placed it on their dresser, a tendril of calm curling in his stomach when he saw Yuuri pulling on one of his shirts. It just hit the bottom of his boxer-brief's, leaving his perfect thighs bare.  
Viktor went to fetch the small orange pill bottle from Yuuri’s bathroom bag-- he still hadn’t completely unpacked, but this was a routine Viktor had learned before the Grand Prix Final.  
He fetched a bottle of water from the kitchen and set both on Yuuri’s nightstand. Yuuri was already wrapped up in blankets like a burrito, the wet cloth folded carefully and set on the edge of the same nightstand. 

“Phone?” Viktor asked, waiting until Yuuri shook his head and opened his arms-- the edges of the blankets hung open, arranged into an invitation. Viktor crawled onto the bed and into Yuuri’s blanket burrito. It felt odd, to rest his head against Yuuri’s shoulder, for Yuuri’s arms to curl around him-- as if he was the one to be comforted. But soft lips pressed against the whorl of hair on the back of his head and cold feet slid up his calves. Yuuri found his comfort in him, drinking in the scent of Viktor’s shampoo and playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. Makkachin settled on Yuuri’s other side, curled into the small of his back.

It was peaceful for a moment, before the hiccup-squeak returned.

“You don’t have to hold back with me, solnyshko.”

Yuuri hiccuped again.

~~

Viktor didn’t press going to the doctor the next morning. The hiccups were still there, but his skin wasn’t as badly scalded as he thought. They made it through breakfast without anything being thrown or hit. 

Weeks later, Viktor would look back and hate himself for not noticing. He would blame himself for labeling Yuuri’s quiet, dreamy looks for his usual sleepiness and not a bad omen..

“Makkachin! Ready for a walk? Ooh yes, good girl!” Victor sang, in relatively high spirits. Yuuri’s head jerked back, bobbing slightly as he echoed Viktor

“Good girl--- good girl--” Yuuri parroted, punctuating the sounds with a whistle and a hiccup. Viktor stopped, Makkachin’s leash in his hand. Yuuri bowed his head, his head bobbing again. “Goodgirl--”

Makkachin wagged her tail, leaning her body against Yuuri’s legs and smiling at him. 

“Yuuri--- so cute!” Viktor swallowed back any nerves and replaced it with his usual eagerness. Focused on how his heart grew just looking at Yuuri and his bed-head hair curling around his flushed-pink ears.

You don’t--- good girl! Have to-- wow! --lie.” Yuuri hid his face in his hands at the perfect imitation of his boyfriends ‘Wow!’. “It’s--not--cute.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.. I just...I love everything about you.” Viktor crossed the room and kissed Yuuri’s forehead, before kissing every fingertip of Yuuri’s he could reach.

“Wow! Wow, Wow-- “ Words burst from Yuuri the moment Viktor drew back, his nose scrunching. Makkachin danced impatiently at their feet.

“Do you want to stay in?” Viktor clipped Makkachin’s leash onto her collar and she immediately went for the door.

“Wow, wow-- amazing--- wow, good girl-- I--- nnh.” Yuuri rubbed at his eyes before shaking his head. “No. Don’t leave me.” He drew in a long breath before letting it out shakily.

“Never.”  
~

Viktor felt almost magical-- they made it a few blocks down the road, hand in hand, without a word from Yuuri. He was calm, only a few bunny-like nose wiggles as he watched his breath float into the air, a cloud in the cold Russian winter. He had calmed down Yuuri the night before, but out in public he felt like he was a cure-- or a switch, turning off whatever was bothering Yuuri.

“Solnyshko, I---” Viktor’s words died on his tongue when Yuuri’s hold on his hand loosened, Yuuri’s gaze distant. Viktor watched in slow motion as Yuuri dropped like a rag doll-- his head just barely missing the asphalt when Viktor’s reflexes kicked in and he grabbed Yuuri’s fingertips. His grip slipped-- but it saved him from the force of hitting the asphalt from his whole height.

“Yuuri?” Viktor had no idea that he shrieked, his throat raw with terror as he knelt in the traffic-melted slush, Yuuri’s stupid knit- hat knocked off and his gaze vacant. “Yuuri?”

Viktor’s hands shook violently-- held uselessly in front of him. A few onlookers waiting at a nearby bus stop stared, but did nothing.

Makkachin turned around, her leash dragging in the slushy gutter as she sniffed and whined at Yuuri’s ruddy cheek.

His dark eyelashes fluttered. Viktor finally breathed.

“Ow.” Yuuri whimpered, dragging his fingers across his forehead.

“We need an ambulance.” Viktor’s voice shook, and he nearly dropped his phone into a puddle.

“No! I’m fine---” Yuuri sat up and reached for the phone before his shoulders lifted into a hunch. “Ow-- son of a b--”

“I’m calling for an ambulance.” Viktor said more forcefully. “You-- you just fell over, Yuuri.” He barely managing to type 112 onto his phone screen.

“I can’t afford---” Yuuri hissed. He stopped arguing when he looked at Viktor’s face.

“This isn’t America.” Viktor frowned. Yuuri couldn’t make out any of the rapid-fire, deep Russian that didn’t seem to match the man it was coming out of. His pants were soaked, his head hurt and Makkachin wouldn’t stop licking his face.

Yuuri tried to ignore the onlookers with their cellphones out when the ambulance rolled up. He didn’t try to fight it when Viktor picked him up and carried him into the ambulance. He sat on the cushioned bench, closing his eyes and letting the medics measure and listen to whatever they wanted to. Viktor didn’t translate-- he continued in Russian, speaking too fast to make any sense.

“He’s been having these-- fits? Doing or saying the same thing over---” Viktor rambled. Makkachin laid down at his feet, lifting her head when Viktor squeezed his eyes shut. Yuuri tried to pull his arm just as they put in an IV, the EMT luckily skilled as he grabbed Yuuri’s arm before he hurt himself. But he managed to surprise the other EMT and flip the blood pressure cuff out of her hands, sending it sailing in an arch before it fell onto Makkachin’s head.

“Is he on any drugs?” The female EMT asked. Viktor balked.

“No, he’s not on any drugs-- we’re Olympic athletes!” Viktor felt anger boil up in him. “He just flew over from Japan, maybe he caught something on the airplane.”

The back door of the ambulance was pulled shut. 

“Yuuri-- I’m sorry-- we should’ve gone right to the hospital.” Viktor swayed with the movement of the vehicle, nearly losing his footing. Yuuri wrinkled his nose.

“Dasvidanya-- dasvidan-ya--” Yuuri hiccuped. His head jerked to the side, before he fitfully turned his head toward Viktor.

“Viktor?” Yuuri’s voice was small. Scared.

“I’m here.” Viktor squeezed Yuuri’s foot-- he was wearing his brand-new winter boots Viktor had bought him in Barcelona.

“Davidanya--wow--Why are you-” His head jerked. “Crying?”

“Oh.” Viktor blinked. “I--uh.” Viktor fidgeted. “Sorry. You’re just...saying goodbye.”

“I don’t--wow- want--to.” Yuuri hiccuped again. “S-s-dasvid--nn--sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know.”

~  
Viktor is left in the waiting area of the emergency room. He considered fighting the nurses, before remembering his poodle at his feet. They had a good reason. Yuuri’s back arched, his arms stretched out the side of his bed as he is wheeled down labyrinthine hallways and behind closed doors.

Yakov arrived twenty minutes after Viktor calls him. Only managing to choke out the name of the hospital he’s at before his hands shake too much and his phone drops out of his hands. Georgi arrived in another half hour later and left not soon after with Makkachin.

Viktor sat helpless, until three hours later Yakov stood up and hobbled his way to the reception desk.

“Come on, Vitya.” He grunted, and a faceless woman in scrubs opens a door for them. He finally walks down the endless hallways, until he finally can breathe. Yuuri is in a room-- shared with three others divided by blue-green curtains. There’s a crown of white wires and white sensors on his head, but he is sleeping soundly, a cup of half-melted ice cubes sitting on his bedside table.

“What’s wrong with him?” Viktor asked the woman, who he hoped was a doctor.

“We’re not sure.”


End file.
